


Secret-keepers and Friends

by naberiie



Series: Duty, Loyalty, Sisterhood: Royal Handmaidens of Naboo ⚜ [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, minor 501st guys at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naberiie/pseuds/naberiie
Summary: Handmaidens Moteé, Dormé, and Ellé give Anakin and Padmé the simple, sweet gift of one night of normalcy: a small, relaxed gathering between knowing friends, and the freedom to enjoy each other's company without worry.





	Secret-keepers and Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Data File on Padmé's handmaidens in ROTS: "Handmaidens Moteé and Ellé were chosen because they resemble Padmé. They know of her marriage to Anakin, and often facilitate the couple's meetings by serving as decoys," as well as conversation with @evaceratops. The Coruscant Handmaiden Trio are the real MVPs, like for real.
> 
> Takes place before the events of _From Which Stars._
> 
> Un-beta'd because I have no patience and also a driving desire for immediate validation ❤

When Anakin Skywalker finally managed to slip out of the 501st’s barracks, a group of men, lead by Fives, were loudly and adamantly trying to convince Rex to join them on their traditional “first night of leave” bar crawl – the Grand Tour, as they called it – with little success. Rex was braced in the threshold of his personal quarters, shouting over Fives about the reports that they _both_ had to be writing before the deadline at midnight.

“Those are more _arbitrary_ deadlines than anything, Rex-”

“Deadlines that still need to be _kept_ -”

“Get them done quickly and then come out with us, you don’t need to be some kriffing _detailed-_ ”

Rex through his hands up in wild exasperation. “That is the entire _point_ of the reports-”

Anakin suppressed a smile as he threw his robe over his shoulders. Echo, restlessly watching the others argue, was the only one to catch the motion. “Sir?” His voice was quiet compared to his brothers’ – as was his Force signature. Tightly-wound, anxious, but still as loyal as the others. Anakin liked him, even though he knew his casual way of leadership drove Echo up the wall. A fact which Echo would rather carry to his grave than admit out loud.

“I have to go to the Temple; the Council wants their own report… but they want it in person.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue, and he tried to look annoyed. Every time he thought of the slim flimsi invitation tucked into a fold of his tunic, he had to fight to keep a delighted grin off of his face.

Echo nodded, his eyes flicking back to the gathering crowd around Rex’s quarters and the steady increase in friendly arguments, but Anakin was already late. He nodded at Echo, then at the shouting match. “I wish you luck with all of this.”

Echo nodded sharply again and his hand twitched with the repressed urge to snap a salute. “You as well, sir.”

Anakin slipped out just as Rex relented and agreed, met with uproarious cheers and applause. He couldn’t fight the smile as the door slid shut behind him, the cheers drowned out with the steady roar of the never-ending Coruscant traffic that reached them even in the heart of the military complex.

Though he was still dressed in his Jedi tunic, his lightsaber clipped to his side, he all but disappeared into the madness of Galactic City’s pedestrian walkways. Hardly anyone cast him a second glance – though he made certain to avoid the walking patrols of the Coruscant Guard. Though he was late, and eager to get to the party, walking in the chaos of the city was always a simple joy for him. He could relax and let his thoughts wander a little more freely, lose himself in the small problems and worries of the strangers rushing by him on the streets.

He started off in the direction of the Temple, just in case – but then, after several minutes of purposeful walking, he turned away from the Temple, put it behind him, and strode towards the Senate Apartment Complex. Specifically, towards one of the hidden entrances, meant for service droids and deliveries. It was deserted, apart from one hooded figure waiting for him by the door.

“Good evening, Ani,” the figure called in an almost-familiar voice. One of the few that could get away with the old nickname, Moteé gave him a smile as she pushed back her hood. There was light laughter behind her words as she gestured him inside. “Glad you could make it.”

Now that he was here, Anakin suddenly felt more nervous than ever. The lift ride was silent, Moteé quiet and contemplative, but Anakin’s head was filled with a strange buzzing noise. The handmaidens had always been there, in the background. They were with Padmé at every hour of the day, and by now, Anakin found their presence was comforting. They always slipped away when Anakin showed up at Padmé’s apartment. They had an unspoken agreement, and he knew they would never speak of the secret that could destroy them all. Anakin’s gratitude for the women – Moteé, Ellé, and Dormé – ran deep, because without them, he was almost certain he and Padmé would have been found out within a week of their marriage.

This was the first time he’d been invited to dine with them all, however.

The lift chimed softly, and Anakin followed Moteé out into the carpeted hall. Older than the other handmaidens by nearly seven years, Moteé was a trained doctor and had a soothing, calm presence in the Force. Anakin had always thought that she and Kix would get along very well – though Kix’s attitude towards his profession was more ‘disbelieving, frustrated exasperation’ than ‘maternal disappointment.’

Ellé, tiny and bubbling, somehow opened the door balancing two wine glasses in hand. Quiet, upbeat music played in the background, and the smells of dinner enveloped them as she welcomed them in. “There you are! Hullo, Anakin – Padmé’s in the living room,” she chirped cheerfully, pressing one of the glasses into his hands. “I’m so glad you could make it – dinner’s nearly ready.”

“Hi, Ellé. It’s good to see you.” He said awkwardly, accepting the glass and clutching it nervously in both hands. “The – uh – the living room, you said?”

She grinned up at him – she was easily the shortest of all the handmaidens, not even topping five feet – and nodded, stepping out of the way to let him in. “She’s finishing up some reports.”

His smile was immediate and easy now. Of course, she would still be working. He knew the layout of the apartment by heart, but still he couldn’t keep control of his nerves as he walked around the corner. How could he help it, when every time he saw her again his heart threatened to explode out of his chest?

Ellé and Moteé moved into the kitchen, their low conversation drifting over the music, and Anakin stepped into the living room steeped in the brilliant oranges and yellows of the setting sun – but none so bright as Padmé lit by the sharp blues of her lit datapad. At the sounds his steps, she glanced up, and when she beamed at him, Anakin’s heart seized with wild love. “Ani!”

The delight in her voice as she said his name still made him blush. He wanted to run to her side, he wanted to kiss her again and again and again – but though they were among friends, though the handmaidens knew about their marriage, though they were about to have dinner as a normal, married couple and friends, their presences in the Force made him restrained. He wasn’t usually timid about going to her side and pressing his lips to hers when others were close by. But there was something about the fact that the handmaidens _knew_ , and that they _didn’t care._ It was a strange concept, a strange feeling of release that felt as if it might be yanked away at any moment.

He wasn’t used to the freedom of it. Not yet. And so he was stuck in place by an unexpected nervousness. He felt rooted to the spot.

Padmé caught it. She raised an eyebrow as she came around the couch to nestle her way into his arms. Her dark brown curls cascaded over her bare shoulders, and she looked so beautiful that to look directly at her quite literally hurt his heart.

She stared up at him and the spell was broken. “Padmé,” he breathed out in wonder. “I missed you so much.”

He pressed his lips to forehead as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her hands automatically stroking his hair. His muscles were still locked tight, his mind constantly aware of Moteé and Ellé in the kitchen – and now Dormé had joined them, too.

“Are you nervous?”

He nodded, and she smiled softly before pulling him down to kiss him again. “Me, too.”

“It’s – I didn’t expect it to feel so strange.”

“I know.” Padmé quirked her eyebrows at him again. “We’re _actually_ acting like a married couple.”

Anakin smiled shyly and pressed his face into her thick curtain of hair – she smelled of bright flowers and citruses, and he relaxed automatically. He breathed in deeply and said softly, “It’s wonderful.”

She hummed in agreement, and Anakin felt emboldened enough to kiss her properly this time. When they finally broke apart, Padmé’s eyes were shining, her cheeks tinged such a lovely shade of pink that Anakin had to bend down and kiss her again.

And when Moteé called that dinner was ready, Anakin Skywalker delighted in the fact that he could hold his wife’s hand as they sat down at the table. It was a simple meal, but delicious. Moteé asked after his Padawan and the health of his troops. Ellé chatted about her most recent studies at the University – she was now halfway through a degree in Chommell economic history – gossiping about the other students and excitedly talking about her planned dissertation. Dormé was shy, but perked up when the discussion turned towards the Festival of Shiraya happening next month in Theed.

And not one of them minded when Anakin took Padmé’s hand again, or when she stroked his cheek, or when he left his arm draped over the back of her chair, not even when he grew bolder than ever and kissed Padmé after dessert.

Padmé gasped and exclaimed in mock shock, even as she pulled him back for another, Ellé giggled, and Moteé and Dormé shared an amused, self-satisfied look.

Around them, the Force shone with warmth, vivid and dazzling as the sun.

He didn’t ever want to leave.


End file.
